Behind the Scenes
by PhiraLovesLoki
Summary: When Emma kisses Killian outside Granny's that night, there's so much more going on than meets the eye.


**This story is a gift for flirtyhook on Tumblr-happy birthday!**

 **This is like super mega canon divergent, and there's a lot that's different to make the premise work, but I had fun writing it. This story begins with an alternative ending to season 3, where Hook and Emma return from the past _without_ bringing any season 4 plots with them.**

* * *

David happily drank another beer, glad that the weather was pretty balmy for March in Maine, and that Granny's was so close to the loft. It was good to be able to celebrate for the first time in over a year, without having to worry about driving home. In fact, he hadn't seen Storybrooke's denizens this happy in quite a while.

When the curse had first broken, the tearful reunions had been cut short by the townspeople calling for Regina's blood, followed by Emma and Mary Margaret's sudden departure. The party thrown upon their return had been awkward, with a moody Regina present, and it had been immediately followed by so much conflict, turmoil, and terror that everyone had still been on edge when they'd celebrated Henry's return from Neverland. And of _course_ that had ended badly; Pan's manipulations had resulted in the now-no-longer missing year in the Enchanted Forest.

Their return to their homeland hadn't been joyous either. Very little had been rebuilt since the curse had hit, and he and Mary Margaret, and Regina, had all been devastated by the loss of their children. And Hook, someone he'd considered an ally and possibly a friend, had deserted them and returned to piracy, although at least that change hadn't lasted. And after returning to Storybrooke and finding Emma and Henry, it had just been stress and fear non-stop.

But now, everything was finally _fine._ They were home, reunited with Emma and Henry. Their former enemies—Regina, Gold, and Hook—were now allies. Everyone was laughing and drinking and making merry. And he and Mary Margaret now had a _baby,_ a beautiful and now _safe_ baby.

They could finally have their happy ending. They were a family again: Him, Mary Margaret, Emma, Henry, and baby Neal …

Although, where _was_ Emma?

She wasn't at the counter, drinking with the dwarves. She wasn't in conversation with Aurora or Ruby or Tinker Bell. She wasn't talking to Regina or Robin, although that made sense, given how cuddly those two were at the moment. She wasn't reading through the book with Henry anymore; last he'd seen her, she'd been pointing out all the differences she claimed were due to her and Hook's interference in the past.

Belle, Gold, Hook, and Archie were all also gone. Maybe something was up? "I'll be right back," he told Mary Margaret before pressing a kiss to her forehead and heading for the front door and stepping outside.

Only to find his daughter wrapped in Captain Hook's arms and enthusiastically sucking face with him.

It was hard to remember that Emma was nearly thirty years old _and_ a mother herself, or that Hook was now, as unbelievable as it was, his own _friend._ And he'd seen the way the two had been looking at each other, and he'd noticed how much time they'd been spending together. And given the talk he'd had with "Prince Charles," if he hadn't already suspected that the pirate had romantic feelings for his daughter, that was enough of a tip off.

But he didn't really need to _see_ them finally give into those feelings.

"All right, all right," he said, using his most authoritative "sheriff" voice. It had the intended effect; Hook and Emma jumped apart as though struck by lightning.

"Dad!"

"I can't say I'm totally shocked," he continued, making sure, as he put his hands on his hips, that his gun holster was visible. "I saw this coming from a mile away. But if you guys are going to start doing _this_ ," and here, he gestured at them, "I'm gonna have to ask that you do it in private."

"We were alone till now, mate."

"Hook!"

"Enough, enough." He cringed as he saw Emma hastily wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. "If you guys are going to finally start dating—and as much as I hate to admit it, I guess it's about time—just try to keep it rated PG."

"Rated what?"

"I'll explain it later."

"Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Hook raised his eyebrows. "Emma," he clarified, and the pirate smirked. "I noticed you were both gone, and so were Belle, Gold, and, weirdly enough, Archie."

"Oh, they're fine," Emma said, grinning a bit knowingly, although Hook scowled. She playfully batted his shoulder in response to his reaction.

"Ew, okay, anyway, I'm going back inside," David said quickly. "Glad to see you two have finally figured things out. Just no traumatizing me, or Henry, or anyone else in this town."

"Okay … Dad."

"Sure thing, mate."

Feeling satisfied that he wasn't going to walk in on another hot and heavy make-out session (although privately admitting that maybe he had it coming, after the time Emma—and Henry—had walked in on him and Mary Margaret), David stepped back into the diner.

* * *

"Well, that was a bit awkward," Killian commented as soon as the door was shut.

"Should we tell him?" Emma asked, her hand absently running up and down his sleeve.

"I'm sure he'll find out eventually."

* * *

Emma was glad that she'd been the one to climb the beanstalk with Hook. It wasn't just that she wanted to make sure the job got done, especially since she was pretty sure Mulan could have handled it. It was because she knew Hook would want to connect with her. He would—well, he _had_ sensed that she was a bit of a thief herself, and he'd definitely known she was pretty desperate to get back to Storybrooke. That made it easier to work with him: he treated her like a comrade, not an enemy, and he was too busy trying to connect with her to realize she wasn't falling for any of it.

Well, her heart wasn't _entirely_ made of stone. She _could_ feel for the guy. Rumplestiltskin (ugh, that was still weird to think about) had cut off his hand and killed who she assumed was his girlfriend. But she still couldn't let him get to Storybrooke. If he was _so_ driven to revenge that he'd team up with Cora, then as soon as they got back, she'd be right smack in the middle of a murderous feud between a guy with a hook for a hand and another whose Machiavellian nature gave her whiplash.

And that's all she'd be dealing with if Cora didn't _also_ make it to town and wreak ridiculous amounts of havoc. God, she was starting to see why Regina was so unbelievably screwed up.

But it didn't matter. She now had the compass, as well as the giant's promise that he'd let Hook chill up there safely for about ten hours before setting him free. That would hopefully be enough time to figure out a plan to get the wardrobe dust before Hook managed to get free and warn her. Now she just had to get back down before Mulan cut down the damn beanstalk.

She was a little surprised to find that Hook was still under the pile of rubble that had fallen on him. "Hook? Ya there?"

"I'm here, love, just a little stuck. If you would be so kind …"

"All right, just give me a second." She got down and reached into a crevice between some of the stones and found his hand.

He was chuckling as she pulled him out. "You were bloody brilliant. _Amazing._ " She tried not to roll her eyes; she'd be buttering _him_ up if their places were reversed. "May I see it? The compass," he clarified.

She'd been waiting for this. She knew he'd ask to see it, and then he'd take it and run. Or take it and pretend he wasn't running, before running. She wasn't going to have to find out. She pulled the compass out, not handing it to him.

"It's more beautiful than legend," he whispered. He let out an understanding chuckle when she moved it away as he made to touch it. Of course he'd understand; he was a thief. He was used to people not trusting him. She shoved it back into her jacket.

He must have sensed that she was being quiet for a reason. "Come, let's go." He held his hand out for her.

The shackle was just where the giant had said it would be, and it was easy to grab it and shut it around his wrist.

"What are you doing?" She quickly stepped back, but didn't answer him. "What are you doing?"

"Hook, I … I can't …" Goddamn it. She'd planned it. She'd just forgotten that he was going to have something to say about being locked up.

"Emma, look at me." She couldn't help but do so, and she immediately regretted it. It was all over his face: anger, confusion, hurt. "Have I told you a lie?"

She was tempted to point out the whole "blacksmith" bullshit he'd tried feeding to her earlier, but she knew what he meant. No, he hadn't.

"I brought you here," he continued, earnestly. "I risked my own safety to help you. The compass is in your hand—why do this to me now?"

He really _didn't_ understand, which meant that he really _did_ think they were working together. Oh god, she hadn't planned on it. Why couldn't he have just been playing her from the start?

"I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you," was her only reply. It felt weak.

"What, you want me to bloody prove myself to you?" he asked angrily. "I'm honest with you, I throw in my lot with you, and you decide that it's just too likely I'm a lying bastard?"

"You're a lot like the last lying bastard." Ugh, she had _not_ meant to say that! She blamed Neal for being on her mind this whole time.

Hook clearly understood what she'd meant; he straightened a bit, although his expression remained unchanged. "I've allied with Cora because I need to get to Storybrooke," he reminded her. "I've no desire to work with her. I have no idea what it would take to convince you of this. I _want_ to help you. Why can't you believe that?"

"Tell me why," she retorted. "Why do you want to help us? Because if I'm you, I want to snag the compass and then get the dust from Cora and then be on my merry way. Why do you care if _we_ get to Storybrooke?"

He was quiet after that, and she couldn't tell if he was silent due to lack of an answer, or because he didn't want to admit whatever it was. Either way, she didn't have _time._ He was locked up for the next ten hours, and she had the compass; she needed to get back to the ground before Mulan got out the weedwacker. She turned to leave.

"Milah had a son," he said suddenly, so quietly that she had to consider if she'd even heard him properly. She turned back around. "She left her husband for me, but that meant leaving her son behind. She always talked about going back for him but every time we had the chance, she was too afraid. Too afraid her husband had turned him against her, that he hated her. Too afraid of what her husband would do. And as the years wore on, she became convinced it was too late."

She'd seen it in his eyes as they'd climbed the beanstalk, the same thing he'd seen in hers: he'd been abandoned, too. So his lover abandoning her son would have been a sore spot. And helping a mother get back to her son, to prevent another abandonment … yeah, she could see how that would matter to him.

It rang true; if he was lying, he deserved an Academy Award or two.

"I can't just let you come with us," she said softly, and he looked at her hopefully. "The others don't trust you, and they're not going to just because I say so. And from what you've said about Cora, you're in more danger if she knows you're deserting her."

He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking it over. "Release me. I'll wait here and give you a head start. Cora sent me to gather information and throw you off; I'll explain that you figured me out and ditched me."

"And then?" This all sounded a lot like what would happen anyway. But then again, it would mean that she was trusting him.

"You need the wardrobe dust. I'll try and steal it and get it to you. And, of course, figure out what she plans to do with it. Or do you have some idea already?" She shook her head. That was one of those things she was going to figure out later. "Emma, please." He held his shackled hand out at her. "I don't know what happened to you in the past, but …" He seemed frustrated, unable to figure out what he wanted to say to her.

"Just promise me something," she said. If she was going to set him free and really actually ally with him, this needed to be said. "When we get to Storybrooke, you can't kill Gold." His brow furrowed. "Rumplestiltskin."

"Swan, I'm not sure if you've been paying attention, but killing him has been my sole motivation for … well, let's just say I'm much older than I appear."

"I've got a new policy, as the sheriff. In Storybrooke, murder is a _huge_ fucking deal, okay? Like, lock you up for life big deal."

"And Regina and the Dark One, you've got them all shackled up?" He lifted his right arm for emphasis.

"I can't hold everyone responsible for what went down before the curse. I'm sure you've killed people—should I arrest you as soon as we get back?"

He shook his head. "That was different. It wasn't personal."

"That's even worse in a lot of ways. Look, just … we'll take you with us if you can promise me that I'm not willingly bringing a murderer to town."

His jaw clenched as he considered her offer. "I will not kill him—or anyone—in Storybrooke," he finally said. "Perhaps I can seek my revenge in other ways."

"Whatever you want," she said, not really caring. "Give me a sec." She ran back to the giant, who had the key.

A couple minutes later, Hook was free, shaking his right hand; if he'd had two hands, she could imagine he would be rubbing his wrist. "Okay, so, ten hours," she reminded him. "The giant promised not to kill you."

"Well, let's hope he's as trustworthy as I am then." She rolled her eyes, and he smiled, still clearly a bit tense. "Thank you, Swan."

"You did help, I guess."

"I mean it." He gently grabbed her arm with his hook. "As I said before, I don't know what exactly happened to you in your past, whatever it was that has made trusting me so unbearably distasteful. But whoever he was, love, I'm not him. I consider myself an honorable man."

She wanted to point out that he _was_ a pirate, and he _had_ just helped her steal a magical artifact, so his honor was at least a little bit in question. But goddamn him, seeing right through her and making her feel completely naked, all while thanking her and promising to be worthy of her trust.

And he was right. This wasn't like the watches. He wasn't like Neal. There wasn't anything lurking below the surface. He wasn't insisting on calling the shots, or leaving her in the dark, or doubting her skills. His motives were clear. He wanted to earn her trust and respect.

She stepped forward and gently kissed him. She figured it would just be quick, just to see what it would feel like.

But his arms came around her immediately, just as they had when she'd kept him from setting off that trip wire, and what was _supposed_ to be a pretty chaste peck very quickly devolved into a full-blown make-out session. And the man _did_ know what to do with his tongue. Holy shit.

She wasn't sure which of them pulled away first; they just suddenly stopped kissing. He was staring at her in shock, and she was pretty sure she had a similar expression on her face. "Ten hours," she said. Her voice sounded hoarse.

"I will wait." He sounded equally wrecked.

And with that, she fled, back down the beanstalk. She needed to get back to Storybrooke before she got any more caught up in fairytale bullshit and kissed any more fairytale pirates.

* * *

Killian awoke in an overly bright, sterile white room. Whatever he was wearing felt ill-fitting and quite uncomfortable, and he felt slow and dull, as though concussed. He was lying down, and there was a weight on the bed near his legs, which corresponded to a dark blurry figure.

Which, when he focused on it, resolved itself into Swan.

Bloody hell. She was going to be quite cross with him.

"Where's Cora?" She certainly sounded cross.

"I don't bloody know." He was becoming slowly more aware of _pain_ , pain everywhere, seeping through his body. "What on earth struck me?"

"I don't have time to explain cars to you, Hook. Where's Cora?"

"Swan, please, for—"

"No!" she hissed angrily, shifting towards him. He flinched and immediately regretted the reflex; he gasped at the sharp pain in his ribs. "I trusted you, damnit! I trusted you, and I shouldn't have!"

"Please, love—"

"You stole a _heart,_ you helped Cora get here, you kidnapped and tortured Archie, and you broke your promise that you weren't going to do anything!"

"I promised I wouldn't kill anyone!" Would she even give him a chance to explain himself? It didn't help that he couldn't keep up with the pace of her speech. "The damn crocodile still lives, as does his love."

"You shot an innocent person, and you made her lose her memories—that's not that different from killing them!"

"She's better off—she deserved better than a monster like him. And if you _would_." He tried to sit up, thwarted by pain and yet _another_ shackle around his wrist. "If I hadn't taken Aurora's heart, what do you think would have happened? Did you intend to give Cora the compass? Do you think Cora would have given you extra time?" Her silence and expression answered that question—she knew the naive little princess would have died. "As for helping Cora get here, I didn't _help._ I made a mistake when I held up the bean and pretended to gloat. She knew I had it; it was her idea to revive it and use it."

He _hoped_ Swan knew he'd been pretending to gloat. He had been trying to figure out how to free them from the prison cell without Cora's knowledge, although to no avail; it had been a relief to see the ragtag band of princesses rushing towards him at Lake Nostos. But she _must_ have known he'd thrown their sword fight; she'd even nodded at him before jumping into the portal. Had he been upright when they'd leapt, he might have tried to join them, but there had been no time.

"And you can ask the cricket, I hardly touched him. It was mostly fear that got him talking. I won't try to justify it, but let's not make it more than it was." He wasn't lying, exactly, but he knew that fear was often a more terrible motivator than pain.

His words seemed to mollify her a bit, though; she seemed to sag a little. "It's still not okay that you hurt Archie, or that you shot Belle." She was still angry, yes, but she sounded more like an ally now. "You _cannot_ do that. If you're going to be on my side, you can't hurt innocent people."

He nodded; it was a promise he was all too happy to make. Torturing someone to fulfill Cora's sick plans had been extremely unpleasant. And hurting Belle had been what he initially considered an ingenious plan, and it had the intended effect, but there was something unexpectedly hollow in the victory. Perhaps it was her innocence, or perhaps it was that she had saved his life earlier, on the deck of the _Jolly._ Something had changed; he hadn't felt nearly as reluctant to hurt her before, back when he'd found her locked in a tower in Regina's castle. Either way, Swan had a point: if he continued to hurt innocent people in his quest to avenge Milah's death, he was no better than the crocodile himself.

"But seriously," Swan continued, "where's Cora?"

"I've no idea, love. She's got her own agenda, and I have a feeling she's unwilling to work with me now that I've made myself known to Storybrooke at large."

"And that agenda?"

"Force Regina to be dependent on her, for a start. I'm sure there's something more to it after that."

"Probably," she muttered. "How are you feeling?"

"Quite awful, if I'm to be honest. Where the bloody hell am I?"

"The hospital. Like, sick bay?" Ah, yes. That made sense. "You've definitely got a bunch of broken ribs, although I think you got lucky."

"Something else is wrong." It wasn't like him to complain about maladies, but Swan was a comrade and an ally; she should know if something was amiss. "I feel … I can't possibly be intoxicated, but …"

"You're on a lot of pain killers. Drugs. They can make you feel a little loopy."

It was a strange word, but it seemed well-suited to how he was feeling. Though he was still in quite a bit of pain, perhaps these drugs were preventing it from being excruciating. "Well, thanks for stopping by, Swan. It's good to see you. Though perhaps you could free a man again?" He pulled on the shackle around his wrist. He moved his other one to find he was a bit handicapped. "Or return my hook?"

"Sorry, Hook. I told you, I'm the sheriff. There are penalties for shooting people, so you're stuck here until you're well enough to be moved to the sheriff's station."

Or until he figured out how to remove the shackle, but he'd humor her for now. "I see. Then I suppose I'm entirely in your hands?"

"I'll try to come by and check on you periodically, okay? Oh, here." She reached over and pressed a strange flat device into his hand, pointing to a button. "If you need anything, you can press this and a nurse will come and check on you."

"Think I need coddling, love?" The very idea was a bit insulting, but it was a little sweet that she cared.

"You can also press it if Gold shows up and tries to kill you." Well, there was also that. "He doesn't know what room you're in, but … well, I don't really know how to shield you magically, so you're just going to have to hope he doesn't find you. But at least if he comes after you, someone will come running."

"Thank you." She nodded. "And thank you."

Her forehead knotted thoughtfully. "For what?"

"I wanted to earn your trust, and I can see that I've failed to do so."

"Yeah, well …" She sighed. "How about you don't make me any promises anymore? We'll take a little break from being allies."

"Swan, I—"

"We don't have to be enemies," she said, interrupting his pleas. "But I can't work with you if you're going to be constantly undermining me to try to kill someone."

She was very quiet after that, and so was he. He very much did _not_ want to lose her partnership; it had been hell returning to Cora and trying to keep her from destroying him while simultaneously trying to escape her sphere of influence. And now he was trapped in this strange world, and his only ally was opting out.

But to let go of his vengeance, when he was closer than he'd ever been? To give up when the crocodile could be dead in a matter of days? To abandon his goal when it was the only thing that would bring him some measure of peace?

"I don't know what to say," he said shamefully.

"It's okay." She patted his arm. "You do you, I guess."

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you."

"I should have expected it."

"I mean it."

She studied his face for a few moments. "You really do, don't you?"

Before he could reassure her, and explain the conflicted thoughts swirling in his mind, she leaned down and kissed him.

He would have been lying if he hadn't hoped this event might repeat itself. It had been such a surprise atop the beanstalk when she'd done the same thing. For a split second then, he'd recognized and accepted the surprising gesture for what it was—an acknowledgement that he wasn't the same as whatever man had broken her heart before—but then something inside him had taken over. There was something in her kiss that had stirred up strange, unnamed feelings inside him. In that moment, he'd lost control, desperate to taste her, to feel her, to _know_ her.

This kiss was much gentler, he was sure due to his invalid state. But while it lacked the same sort of wild abandon of the first kiss, it was still quite passionate, and the drugs coursing through his system heightened the sensations tenfold.

She pulled back, all too soon; had he been more able bodied, he would have chased the kiss, and perhaps convinced her to continue it. The idea that this might be their last kiss—unless he could somehow forget the crocodile—was an unpleasant one.

"Get some rest," she said softly. And it was all he could to do even nod in response before she was gone.

* * *

Too much was happening. It was just _too much._ Neal was _Gold's son,_ and Gold was _Henry's grandfather,_ and Neal was _one of them,_ and it was August _who'd ruined everything,_ and now Gold was _dying_ because somehow Captain fucking Hook had found his way to Manhattan.

Why why why why was this her life?

Emma dropped the not-entirely-conscious pirate as she fumbled with the keys Neal had given her—this was Neal's fucking apartment building and just holy shit why why why why why—and opened the door to the tiny basement storage room assigned to his apartment. Hopefully it would take Hook a long enough time to get out that he wouldn't be able to follow them and finish the job. It didn't matter that Gold had nearly assaulted her, or that he was a pretty despicable person most of the time. He was Neal's _dad_ and Henry's _grandfather_ and murder was _wrong_ and this had to stop.

Hook groaned as she lifted him up. "What on earth did you hit me with?" he asked groggily.

"Who cares?" she spat, dragging him into the room. She wasn't really sure what it had been—trash can? Who _cared?_ _Neal was Gold's son._

"I don't know why you're so angry," he said, way too calmly for how she was feeling. He seemed to be recovering from his injury, already standing, although he was cradling his head. "I'm not a simpleton, love—you're not the sheriff here, so you're not responsible for apprehending me."

"Do you seriously think I only think murder is wrong when it's in my jurisdiction?" she asked, incredulously.

"He killed my love," he said insistently, leaning against a dusty armchair. "He murdered her before my very eyes, for no reason except that he felt insulted."

"So it's okay to kill him in front of his son?"

That seemed to have an effect. "His—what? That man is _Bae?"_

"You _do_ know each other!" Neal ignoring her earlier question had been enough of a tip off, but she liked knowing she was right. Neal had lied to her before; at least she could trust Hook to be honest with her.

"I didn't know," he said hoarsely. "I didn't know it was Bae. Damn me."

"I can't deal with you right now," she said sadly. "I just—there's so much going on right now, and there's no way I can bring you back with me."

"Swan." He moved towards her suddenly, and before she knew it, she was in his arms. "You should go. I want the man dead, but I know you need to try to save him."

"Then why are you holding me?" Her voice was muffled by his vest. God, he smelled great for a centuries old fairytale pirate.

"Because you looked like you needed it," he whispered into her hair. She looked up to tell him—hell, that he was right? That Neal was Henry's father? That he'd better not try to catch up with them? But before she could speak, whatever it was she was going to say, his mouth was on hers, and she forgot how words worked.

And then it was all over. And he was right—she had to go. They needed to bring Gold to the hospital, like, _yesterday_ ,and she had to convince Henry to trust her again, and then there was _Neal_ and it was so hard to feel like an adult when he made her feel like she was sixteen again.

"Headstart?" she asked weakly.

"Of course." He smiled sadly. His smile was the last thing she saw before she shut the door behind her and locked it.

* * *

Killian still felt uneasy, though he imagined he should get used to the feeling. It wasn't every day that a man gave up the revenge he'd been seeking for centuries.

He wasn't even sure what had changed. He'd maintained for years that only a coward would give up just because his foe was so powerful. And yet wasn't that what he was doing? He'd destroyed Belle's memories, and then he'd poisoned the Dark One, ensuring that the man would die alone and without his love. And yet the man was walking around Storybrooke freely, with his love on his arm, and his son returned to him. It was as though Killian's efforts only ensured his enemy's happiness.

Even more than that, there was Swan. She had been right: what had seemed epic and romantic in the Enchanted Forest carried different connotations in this world without magic. While he could understand the appeal of this world, and he was sure he could continue to adapt if necessary, it did have a sort of smallness to it that he hadn't even experienced in the tiniest of villages back home. Either way, the few acts he had committed since arriving had even felt deplorable to him.

But trying to live for the sake of living, instead of for the sake of getting his revenge, was still new to him. Publicly teaming up with Swan's little band had felt even stranger, especially since no one seemed aware of the history—however brief—he and the Savior shared. He wasn't going to reveal the details of their association without speaking to her about it first, especially since she seemed to want to hide it.

And here he was now, in the middle of what could only be described as the most asinine town meeting he could have possibly dreamt up, with all sorts of nonsense about easy paths and hard paths, and Regina's blood and so on and so forth.

And what was worse, the townsfolk were lining up behind their prince and princess, eager little sheep awaiting their fate. That sort of blind devotion only led to one thing—death.

But he couldn't think about Liam now.

He was sure, absolutely certain that Swan wouldn't cave to her parents' demands, but to his dismay, she simply said, "Okay." And her father tossed her the bean.

He was quicker. "You're all mad," he said, gripping the pouch tightly, knowing Swan would try to pry it out of his fingers. And she did, shouting for him to return the bean. "I can live with myself. If she wants to die, I say, let her." The world wouldn't necessarily be a worse place to live without the Evil Queen, after all. And if this absurd plan failed, it would mean _all_ their lives were forfeit. There was no time for trial and error.

"You and I—we understand each other," Swan said, breathing hard. "Look out for yourself, and you'll never get hurt, right?"

It was hard for him to resist the urge to remind her that she'd been the one to end their brief alliance. But not only was this not the time or the place, she also seemed far more upset than he would have expected, even given the situation. "Worked quite well for me." He quickly thumbed the bean out of the pouch.

"Yeah, until the day that it doesn't," she said angrily. "We're doing this. It might be stupid, it might be crazy, but we're doing it. So …" she took a breath, "you can join us, and be a part of something … or you can do what you can do best, and be alone."

She was so easy to read, but without context, he couldn't quite understand … they needed privacy. "Quite passionate, Swan," he said, handing her the empty pouch. The relieved townsfolk began filing out of the diner. "Why are you really doing this?" he whispered.

She didn't answer, and instead, she grabbed his sleeve and dragged him towards the back of the room into a secluded hallway; he pocketed the bean as he walked. "Swan?"

"Henry just lost his father," she said quietly. He quickly put his arms around her. "I can't let him lose another parent."

"I'm sorry." He hadn't even known Henry's father was in the picture; Swan never spoke of him. He assumed that the man must have been whoever was responsible for her spectacular trust issues, but besides that hunch, he had nothing to go on. "What happened?"

"Tamara shot him and he fell through a portal."

 _Baelfire._ Henry's father was _Baelfire._ Bloody hell, no _wonder_ she'd been such a mess after he'd stabbed the crocodile. She hadn't just helped the man reunite with his long lost son; she'd discovered that the crocodile was bloody _family_. And Henry—Bae was a _father._

"Bloody hell," was all he could manage.

"We can't—I have to go," she said, wiping her face with her free hand. "Thanks for … you know." She held up the empty pouch and then ran off.

He made his way to the _Jolly_ as quickly as he could. He wasn't going to wait around to die. He _couldn't_ die, not after finally deciding to _live._ She couldn't ask that of him, or _expect_ that of him, could she?

And Bae—had he even known about Henry until now? Had he abandoned his boy, too? It was easy to piece together that he'd been the one responsible for the walls around Swan's heart. It wasn't a stretch to assume that his actions may have included leaving behind a child, except that it was hard to believe that _Bae_ would do that, after all he'd been through.

He needed time to think, but there was no time to think. No time unless he got the hell out of that town, with all its bloody, self-sacrificing heroes.

" _Because all you care about is yourself."_

Bloody hell.

* * *

He'd come back. That meant something. He hadn't known they'd saved the town until he returned, surprised to see them all running towards him.

He'd publicly renounced his revenge and welcomed Gold on the ship. What was it he had said? He'd offered his ship and services, all to save a boy he hadn't even met.

If Emma did more chin-ups, maybe she'd clear her head.

"Am I interrupting?" Of course it would be him.

"Just don't get in my way."

"I was hoping we could talk."

"So you are interrupting then." But she dropped down anyway and turned to face him, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For taking the bean."

"Oh." Yeah, that had been pretty infuriating, especially since _he thought they were going to fucking die_ if he took it _._ "I guess I wasn't surprised."

That seemed to cut him pretty deeply; he flinched. "I cared very much for Baelfire," he said, keeping his voice down. "I will do whatever it takes to honor his memory and save his son. And like it or not, I also care very much about _you_ , Swan. I feel like a right arse for leaving."

"Well, you're going to have to earn my trust back," she said, swallowing hard. "None of this, 'I didn't lie' bullshit this time. I can't trust you to have my back if you're going to turn tail and try to save your own ass every chance you get."

He sighed heavily. "I assure you, I'm on your side. I want to be a good man."

She felt a little shaky for some reason. "Okay." He took a step towards her and she put a hand up between them. "But we can't … I can't …" She sighed. "This has to stop. At least for now."

He studied her silently. "Because of Bae." It wasn't a question.

"Because of Neal, because of Henry, because of you leaving … I just … I need some time."

"I understand." He moved towards a cabinet and pulled out a wicked looking cutlass. "You're getting ready to fight, I take it?" He handed it to her.

This was probably a good idea; her gun had proven useless when dealing with fairytale characters before. "Thanks."

"It was his," he said softly as she buckled it into place.

The ship rocked violently before she could ask him anything else.

* * *

"Did you really save his life?"

Killian sighed. "Are you insisting that you believe neither me _nor_ your father, love?"

Swan shrugged and handed back his flask. He took another draft before corking it and placing it back in his coat. "I think you're both hiding something."

He quickly looked around, but the prince, princess, and queen were all entirely out of sight and, hopefully, earshot. "Perhaps it's not for you to know, Swan."

"I knew it." Her eyes flashed with irritation. "Just when I thought you were sticking to your promise. Why are you hiding this from me?"

"Did it occur to you that being a good man means honoring another man's wishes? How can I insist I'm worthy of your trust while happily betraying your father's?" While he did truly want to be a better man, he'd forgotten how difficult it often was. And there seemed to be no way to win with Swan; he was damned no matter what he tried.

But at least his question seemed to strike a chord with her; she hugged her arms and cast her eyes downward. "Fair enough," she muttered. "But you did save him." It wasn't a question; she knew he was being truthful. "Thank you."

"I'm not letting your father die on this island." At least that was the truth. "Or your mother," he added, for good measure. "Or your boy, or you."

"Or Regina or Gold?" But she was smiling a little.

"I should try very hard to prevent their imminent demise," he conceded. He hoped he would not face the opportunity to save the crocodile's life.

She slowly stepped towards him. "Well, that's good enough." She was so close now. Close enough to kiss, but he had agreed to wait.

But clearly the wait was over. She kissed him softly as first, and then more fiercely. He followed her lead for a bit, but when her hand slipped under his coat, he lost his composure and pressed her up against the nearest tree. "Swan," he whispered into her ear before kissing and nipping at her neck.

She groaned. "Careful, no marks." He nodded and went back to work. "God, I've been missing this."

He'd missed it, too. More than he could have ever known.

* * *

"What the hell, Hook?"

Emma found him lurking outside the apartment building, hidden in the alleyway. For someone who seemed bent on avoiding her, he didn't seem to want to let her out of his sight.

"Swan? I thought you had to pack."

"Yeah, well, I also needed some answers." The urge to punch him in the face was pretty damn real. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you mean." He did seem genuinely confused. And sad and scared, but they were all sad and scared.

"Ever since we got back, you've been avoiding me, and I don't know _what's_ going on with Tinker Bell, but I am _not_ interested in games. And _don't_ say it's because of the curse because it's like since we stepped foot back in Storybrooke, you're treating me like I have the plague."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I told Neal I'd back off. I just … wanted to give you a chance."

"A chance to what?" Oh my god, was he that insecure? "It's like I told you in Neverland, after we rescued Neal. I want—I wanted this." She felt stupid having to say it out loud.

"I broke up his family," he said quickly.

"Whose family?"

"Neal's."

Oh.

"I know Milah loved me, that she didn't love his father. But he's always held me responsible for what happened, and I wasn't going to do the same thing again. And Henry certainly deserves a chance to have his family."

"Killian." His name felt weird to say, but it got his attention. "Henry's got a family already. A big one, and it just keeps getting bigger. Neal can—could have been in his life anyway, whatever our relationship status was."

"But he wants—he wanted you."

"No one gets me." It was an even sadder statement given the circumstances. "I get to decide who I want to be with."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

She nodded back. "It's okay. I just …" She couldn't finish the sentence, but she knew the end of it. _I just wish we had a chance._

After looking around to make sure they were out of sight, she embraced him tightly. "Please kiss me. We might not get another chance."

And when they did say goodbye, at the town line, it was all she could do not to leap back into his arms and try to drag him into the Bug with her and Henry.

* * *

"Hook."

Killian couldn't help but smile. "Did you miss me?"

The quip had the intended effect; Swan rolled her eyes immediately and laughed. But he could hear how close to tears she was. "Shall we adjourn to somewhere a little more private?" he asked. "Not that I … I know you've been courting someone. I just meant, you might not want to talk about the Enchanted Forest out where people might think you're mad."

He instantly regretted mentioning her suitor. "Oh, shit!" A passerby glared at them for Swan's coarse language. "Walsh. Oh my god. How'm I going to explain this to him?"

"Swan? Privacy?"

"Right, yeah, come on. Henry's not gonna be home till later." She waved at one of the many yellow vessels that crowded the streets and it moved over towards where they stood. "Get in. I'm not in the mood for the subway." He didn't have the heart to tell her he had no idea what was going on, and instead slipped inside after her, and pulled the strangely shaped door shut. "Here, your seatbelt." She reached over and pulled a strange strap from the back of the seat, securing him. Well, that seemed prudent.

They were quiet as the man piloting the craft ferried them to their destination, which he recognized as Swan's building. He was impressed with the swiftness of the machinery; he'd witnessed the vessels in motion, but it was entirely different to sit within one and experience the reduction in travel time. It had been mere minutes since Swan had regained her memories, and she was now beckoning for him to follow her upstairs into her home.

It was strange being there as a welcome guest, instead of receiving a knee to his privates, but he didn't comment. Meanwhile, Swan had pulled out a device from her pocket and was speaking into it. "Walsh, I know Henry invited you to come over tonight, but something's come up and I'm going to have to reschedule. Call me when you get this message." She set the device down and stared at him, her expression a mixture of relief, shock, and guilt.

"Swan, I can leave if you need me to. I suppose I've … I've come bearing the message, but you have a life here now."

She looked around her living space, as though seeing it for the first time. He wondered what it felt like, to have your memories return to you, and to find yourself miles from where you last remembered being. "I've spent the past year feeling like something was off, you know," she admitted. "We've been happy. Very happy. But I'm happier with my memories."

He smiled. "I'm glad that I didn't ruin anything, then."

"What happened?" She strode purposefully towards a cabinet and pulled out two tumblers and a bottle of rum. When she sat at the table, he followed suit, allowing her to pour him a generous serving.

"I received a message, carried by bird, who was also carrying the vial of potion." He took a swig, necessary to wash the memory of jail out of his mind. "There was a new curse coming, and I was asked to bring you back to Storybrooke."

"What new curse? Or was it a repeat of the old one?"

He shrugged. "I've no idea." He pulled out the strip of paper and showed it to her. "This is all I know."

She looked at it thoughtfully before pushing it back to him. "So how was your year?"

He was too ashamed to admit the truth, that he'd abandoned her parents almost immediately. That it had been unbearable to be around them with her gone. That he'd tried to go back to how he had been—a pirate—and failed. But he couldn't lie to her.

"I missed you, Swan."

"I think I missed you, too," she said very softly. "I know that's impossible, but in all my fake memories from Regina, I never dated. I don't have any memories of feeling lonely. But when we got here, all I could think about was how lonely I was, and how much I missed having … someone. I don't think I would have even given Walsh the time of day if I hadn't felt something missing."

The mysterious Walsh again. "I understand. I suppose he could come with you, if you decided to come back to Storybrooke."

She shook her head. "I don't want to involve him in this. I …" She paused, and it hurt him to see how sad she was. She sighed. "I don't think I could be with someone and hide this side of my life, you know? But if he's _normal,_ I don't know if he could ever understand." The way she said _normal_ made him wince.

"How has Henry been?" He had to change the subject. He hadn't exactly expected Swan would want to pick things up where they'd left off, but the idea that she'd fallen for someone else, even if she wasn't sure she would stay with him, left him feeling cold.

But the question seemed to upset Swan; she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and looked as though she had just realized something unpleasant. "He's … good. He's happy. Just a regular kid, going to school, hanging out with his friends. We do have a great life here."

He sensed the hesitation in her voice. "I can't force you to come back, love. But your parents do need you."

She nodded. "No, I'll go. Even if they weren't in danger, I'd go." She smiled sadly. "I want to see them."

"We should probably leave as soon as possible, if you're able."

"Yeah, we'll be ready. I'll pack tonight and give Henry's school a call in the morning. In the meantime, maybe we need to look into getting you a phone."

"A what?"

"A telephone." She pulled out the device she'd used earlier. "Here, see? You can use it to call other people's phones, and you can talk to them. This way, if you need to talk to me and we're separated, you'll be able to. No birds needed."

"Very well." He wasn't exactly expecting to begin his assimilation so soon after his arrival in the Land Without Magic, but it wasn't as though he was leaving anytime soon. "And I suppose I should arrange lodging for the night."

She frowned. "Where have you been sleeping?"

He braced himself a bit. "I noticed quite a few vagrants around Central Park, sleeping on benches and such. I took my chances among them, but after my encounter with law enforcement, I have a feeling they won't take too kindly to a repeat performance."

"No." She shook her head. "Oh my god, Killian, you can't do that."

"I've spent many a night outside. I was quite safe."

"No, I just mean … we'll get you a room somewhere nearby. Come on. We'll get you a phone, some new clothes, and a hotel room."

He flinched. "The device and accommodations, I'll accept, but …" How could he explain to her that his attire was all he had left of who he was? Without the _Jolly,_ he was homeless. His identity was at stake. And while he had to wear his prosthetic, he hardly felt like himself.

"Fine. It's fine. Phone and hotel it is. Come on."

An hour and a half later, he was the owner of his very own talking device, and Swan had made arrangements for him at a small hostel. He was surprised, then, that she expected him to return to her home, but he didn't argue. "I still want to catch up," she explained. "And besides, you need to eat, right?"

"Just no bologna," he replied, and she chuckled.

As they shared a meal at her table, he wondered … if this is what it would be like to be, as Swan had said, _normal_ here in the Land Without Magic. Would he relax on the sofa and thumb through a book (in this case, one of Henry's history books) while the person he loved prepared supper? What would it be like to not be thinking about the next crisis?

But this wasn't his life, and as he'd reminded her earlier today, in front of the jail, it wasn't hers either.

As they finished their meal, there was a horrible buzzing sound, which didn't seem to startle Swan at all. "Walsh," she said sadly. "I just realized he never called me. Maybe he didn't get the message."

"I could take care of him," he offered.

"No, I should." She stood up. "He thinks I'm accepting his proposal. He's not going to understand unless I'm the one who talks to him."

His … proposal? "Swan?" And she was going to accept?

"Just … wait here. I'll take him up to the roof."

And he did wait, until he heard muffled screams. Without thinking, he dashed out of Swan's apartment and to the stairwell. Sure enough, he came to a door at the top labeled "Roof."

He found her panting and cursing, staring out over the railing at the street.

"Swan? Bloody hell, are you all right? Where's Walsh?"

"A monster," she managed to say between heavy breaths.

"A what?"

"He was …" She paused and turned away from the roof's edge. "He was a _monster._ Like an actual fairytale Enchanted Forest _monster_."

"Why would a monster be courting you?"

"I think … to keep me here." She shook her head angrily. "It doesn't matter. He's gone. We'll leave in the morning. I'll find a way to explain it to Henry."

"Swan, I'm …" The news that Walsh wasn't human, that he'd had ulterior motives, wasn't as much of a relief as he thought it should be. "I'm sorry. I can see how much you cared for him."

"You can see that, but not how much I care for you?" she asked bitterly.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's been a year, Hook. You said you missed me. So …" She shrugged helplessly. "Where's all that? Where's the … you know, sweeping me off my feet, romance novel reunion scene? I've been waiting for it all day!"

"You do recall that I tried kissing you yesterday, don't you? Swan, your knee made your feelings perfectly clear."

"I didn't remember you then!"

That was … true. And she bloody well did now.

Without any further preamble, he closed the distance between her and did just as she'd asked, lifting her into his arms and kissing her deeply. It was awkward, to say the least, to carry her down the stairs and back into her apartment, but he managed. He finally had her in his arms after the longest year of his already long life, and he wasn't going to willingly let go.

As he lay her down on her bed (and while he wished that he could have this moment in his quarters aboard the _Jolly_ , her bed was much larger and softer), she squirmed out of his grip. He panicked—had he misread the situation? But instead, she was grabbing something from a drawer beside the bed. She held up a small square packet. "I love Henry, but I'm not ready for another," she said. Hopefully, there would be more explanation later.

He took his time undressing her, unwrapping her slowly; she'd mentioned Henry wouldn't be home for several hours still, and he wasn't about to rush the moment he'd been waiting for for so long. Her glorious form was worth the wait.

In contrast, she undressed him enthusiastically. "I've been waiting to see what you look like under all this leather for a _while._ " He could only laugh as he helped her in her task; he supposed he had enough patience for the both of them.

"Do I pass inspection?" he asked as he stood in front of her. She sat on the bed and nodded appreciatively before touching his brace. He hadn't been wearing his hook at all, not wanting to draw even more attention to himself, or possibly be apprehended for having such an obvious weapon. He'd removed his prosthetic when he'd removed his long coat, but removing the brace was a tedious affair he rarely engaged in. "Do you want me to remove it?"

"Is it hard to get on and off?"

"No. I just … I don't usually bother."

"Whatever you're comfortable with." She smiled sweetly at him. "I've never cared."

The thought of spending even a few minutes on a task that didn't involve pleasuring Swan until she cried out in ecstasy wasn't an attractive one. Without a word, he simply coaxed her back down on the bed and crawled above her, positioned to caress her breasts with his hand and his mouth. He teased her nipples until they were tight and sensitive before moving lower, to subject her sex to the same treatment. Within minutes, she had her fingers in his hair, and when she came, he could hardly hear her, given how tightly her thighs were pressed against his head.

And after a few awkward moments with the strange, tight sheath, which Swan helpfully volunteered to slide onto his cock, he finally joined with her. Finally.

Finally.

It had been everything he'd hoped for and more, and he could feel himself becoming lost in the most wonderful way possible as he felt her body everywhere around him. When she climaxed for a second time, he was quick to follow, and the only thought ringing through his head was that nothing could ever be better than this.

* * *

It was very late by the time Emma slipped into the hallway on the top floor of the bed and breakfast. Henry had been very anxious all night, clearly realizing that something was off in this strange little town with all these friends of hers he'd never heard of, and it had taken him forever to fall asleep. But as soon as she heard his breathing shift, as it did every night when he slept, she slid on slippers, pulled on a sweatshirt, and grabbed her keys and cell phone.

"I didn't realize you were coming by tonight," Killian whispered as he let her into his room.

"Henry had trouble falling asleep, so I had to wait." She began fishing through his satchel for a condom; they'd agreed that it was safer to leave them with him, in case Henry got curious and rifled through her luggage.

"Swan, wait. Hold on." He grabbed her arm as she finally pulled out a foil packet.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just … you've been rather short with me lately."

"What are you talking about?"

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know we agreed to keep our relationship a secret, but when we're around other people, you're … I don't want to put you on the defensive, love, but you seem constantly irritated with me."

"I'm not."

"And it's not just that," he added. "I know you loved Walsh. And I know that you're worried about Neal."

"What are you saying?" She dropped the condom back in his bag. Clearly, sex was not happening tonight. "Are you questioning whether or not I want you? Or care about you?"

"No, I … well, I suppose I am," he admitted. "Or I'm wondering if I've done something wrong."

"Of course not."

"Then why do you keep snapping at me?"

She sighed. "Killian, my parents know how you feel about me, and even Regina is starting to make comments. If I don't make a deliberate effort to keep some space between us, they're all going to figure it out."

"And that would be so terrible?"

Oh _great._ "I thought we agreed it was best if we kept this a secret."

"You wanted that," he pointed out. "It would be bad form to refuse to honor your wishes, to divulge what you're ashamed of. But I'm not ashamed of how I feel about you, and I don't care all that much about what other people might think."

"I care about what Henry thinks. He thinks I _just_ broke up with Walsh. What's he going to think if he notices I'm getting super close to the weirdo I bailed out back in New York?"

She regretted it the moment she'd said it. Killian's face turned stony, and she saw him clench his jaw. "I'm sorry that I'm not _normal,"_ he bit out. He shifted his brace slightly behind his back.

"I'm sorry. I … I didn't mean that. Please, Killian." She wasn't used to being the one to apologize, to beg, to have a need to set things right. She stepped towards him, getting close without invading his personal space too much. "I want this. I do. And I'm _not_ ashamed." That got his attention, his gaze snapping from the floor to her face. "I'm not ashamed of how I feel about you, or what we share. But no one in this town can keep a secret, and with all that I've put Henry through already, I can't have him knowing yet."

He nodded slowly. "I understand."

"I do want you," she repeated, and when he lifted his arms and held them open, she moved into them and wrapped hers around him.

She woke up with her alarm at five o'clock and snuck back into the suite she shared with Henry.

* * *

The night Bae died, Swan didn't come by. Killian knew she wouldn't; it was hard enough on Henry, knowing his father was now dead, but not knowing the truth of his sacrifice, or the reconciliation between Bae and Swan. It would have been worse for her to abandon Henry to grieve on his own; choosing her own needs over Henry's would have been a mistake.

But he knew she was in pain, and so was he. He wanted to be there, to comfort her and Henry, and to receive comfort in return.

Maybe one day, they could be a family, and have that sort of support.

Except that Swan seemed increasingly desperate to keep Henry in the dark about Storybrooke. She continued to mention New York, and how happy the boy had been living there.

Where he'd been _normal._

Bae was gone. Would Swan leave, too?

After what he'd sacrificed to get back to her, he couldn't help but feel a little resentful. Where did she think he would go? She probably assumed he could go back to the _Jolly Roger_ , although how did she imagine he would return to the Enchanted Forest? But no, he'd be trapped here, in this town, forced to deal with her devastated parents and an angry Regina, who would not willingly let Swan take Henry back to New York permanently.

He'd asked her about it, the evening before Bae's reappearance, after a passionate love-making session. It had soured the mood immediately; Swan became taciturn, and she snuck back into her own quarters soon after, instead of waiting till sunrise. She was a stubborn lass; how could he change her mind? Or was it an impossible task?

He struggled to sleep. Years ago, he'd dreamt of growing old with Milah, raising Bae together, providing him with love and stability. And then he'd lost his love, and Bae, too. And now, history was poised to repeat itself, one generation later.

He couldn't lose any more people he loved.

* * *

"Swan, please!"

Emma ignored Killian as she stomped in the direction of Zelena's farmhouse headquarters.

"Can we at least talk about this?"

"No!" She spun around, nearly spraining her ankle in her heels. "The whole reason this all started was because I thought I could trust you! And clearly I can't!" She turned back towards her destination.

"What would you have had me do then?" he asked, anger rising in his voice as he caught up with her. "She would have killed Henry if I had told you. Would you have preferred that?"

How could he even _joke_ about that, when only hours earlier, Zelena had her hands wrapped around Henry's throat? "You could have told someone else," she pointed out. "Or you could have convinced me to get Henry to safety without telling me about your … mouth curse."

"And you would have been satisfied, handing Henry off to someone else without a clear explanation?"

"I was satisfied with your whole 'Ariel already left, whoops!' explanation," she pointed out. "I was satisfied with your bullshit about having a cold!"

"Oh, and you weren't even the slightest bit suspicious?" he retorted. She bit the insides of her cheeks angrily; she _had_ been suspicious. "I just can't _win_ with you, Swan."

"Don't make this about me," she hissed. "This is about you, keeping secrets and manipulating me. And I'm tired of it." He'd been evasive about his promise not to kill anyone in Storybrooke and had shot Belle. He'd tried to kill Gold in New York. He'd taken the bean when he thought it was the only way to save the town. He didn't tell her or Mary Margaret when David had been _dying_. He'd refused to talk about the missing year. And now, he'd tried to kidnap Henry and kept his cursed status a secret.

"I was trying to protect you."

"Well, I don't need protecting. And Henry won't need it, not when this is all over."

"You're not serious about New York."

His tone irked her further. "Don't tell me what I am or am not serious about. We were safe there."

"Except for the flying monkey."

"Well, this is adorable." Zelena had appeared in front of them while they'd been bickering, and Gold stood just behind her. Great. Just great.

"Let's just get this over with, greenie," she spat. "I'm not in the mood for banter."

"Very well. I'll just take your magic then."

"Yeah, and how—"

But before she could finish her question, Zelena made a gesture towards Gold, and suddenly, Killian was no longer by her side.

He flew through the air and landed with his entirely upper body face-down in a steel basin, filled with water.

Shit. "Killian!" She ran to him.

"You can't help him," Zelena said with barely concealed mirth. The witch was right; no matter how hard Emma tried to pull Killian from the water, it was as though he were glued in place, even as he flailed and tried to push himself free. She even tried her magic—wasn't Zelena's weakness supposed to be light magic?

But Zelena wasn't the one drowning Killian. The Dark One was. And there was no way Emma's magic was a match for _that_ kind of power.

But she kept pulling and prying and channeling her magic as much as she could, and Killian kept splashing and kicking and struggling. And bursts of air began to bubble up, and his chest began to convulse and she pulled and pulled and pulled …

… and he stopped moving.

And Zelena and Gold were gone.

Suddenly, it was all too easy to drag him from the water, but now he wasn't breathing and his lips were turning blue.

"Killian? Killian!" She shook him, tried to turn him over and thump his back to get him to cough up the water that was flooding his lungs. She her eyes were burning and blurry, and she felt like she couldn't breathe either, and he was _dying_.

She knew what she had to do to save him. But … her magic …

No. It didn't matter. She'd figure it out later.

She tilted his head into the proper position, pinching his nose shut, before gently pulling his mouth open and covering it with hers.

She tried to ignore the terrible feeling that flooded her body as she pushed air into his lungs. It was like some part of herself was melting away into nothingness, leaving her feeling the tiniest bit hollow. At least she knew Killian hadn't been lying about the whole lip curse thing.

His chest rose with the rescue breath, and after waiting a few seconds, she gave him a second one.

This had to work. Not because she'd just lost her magic to save him, but because _it had to work._ "Killian, come back to me," she whispered, before moving to try chest compressions.

He suddenly coughed and sputtered, water gurgling out of his mouth; she was almost too dizzy with relief to help him lean over, to prevent the water from going back down his airway. He continued to cough and gasp for several minutes, which she spent trying to comfort him by rubbing his back gently. She wondered if he could even feel the gesture through the coat. Maybe it was just for her own comfort.

"Swan," he croaked, flipping back to face her. He looked relieved and confused for only a moment before realization dawned on his face and he touched his lips. "What did you do?"

He was _angry._

"You were drowning," she tried to explain. Why was he _angry?_

"You shouldn't have done that." He began to pull away from her as he pushed himself to his feet and began to stagger back in the direction they'd come from.

"Hey!" Why the _hell_ was he angry? "Don't walk away from me! I just saved your life!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't have!"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I've spent the past several days trying to prevent _exactly_ this from happening! You needed your magic to save your whole _family!_ To save yourself!"

"Killian, if I hadn't given you mouth-to-mouth, you would have _died!_ Do you not realize that?"

"I would happily give my life to save the woman I love!"

She knew he hadn't meant to say it, and she wasn't really sure she would have ever been ready to hear it. She had pretended that the kiss in New York hadn't been what he implied, that he had just been so happy to see her that he'd kissed her. But she'd known the truth, and now it was out in the open, and she didn't know what to say.

He clearly didn't know either, but she appreciated that at least he didn't try to pretend it hadn't happened. He turned around with a sigh and resumed walking. She, meanwhile, couldn't move.

He loved her. He was angry that he'd volunteered to die for her, and she'd basically turned down the sacrifice. But that's not what had happened.

She caught up with him and took his hand. "I don't want to do this without you."

He dropped it immediately. "Except you're going back to New York."

Well … okay, there was that. "That doesn't mean I'm willing to lose you from my life," she said. "I'll figure this out. I'll find another way."

"Optimistic."

"I found a way to save the town without the bean," she reminded him. He flinched, but to be fair, it was only right that he was still ashamed about what he'd done. "So I'll find a way to stop Zelena without my magic. I don't go down without a fight."

He chuckled weakly. "I'd noticed." She felt his hand brush up against hers and she took it gently. He squeezed it. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I can tell something's missing."

"You sound sad."

"With the exception of maybe a couple of months, I've spent my life not knowing I had any magic. I never felt it, you know? Never felt special. But now, I can tell it's gone."

"Perhaps it'll return once we defeat Zelena."

It was her turn to squeeze his hand. "Now who's the optimist?"

As they approached the town, he let go of her hand again. "I suppose you'd still like to keep this a secret."

"Uh, yeah." She looked up and saw his face fall. "No, Killian, I just … you were so angry with me for saving you. Think of how everyone else is going to react. If they know that we're more than friends, it'll be even worse."

"I understand, love." He reassuringly squeezed her shoulder, but his expression was still a little bit broken. "I'll let you take the lead."

As they made their way to the hospital, she resolved to tell him later, when they had some privacy, that she really did wish they could have held hands the whole way.

* * *

Killian knew his comment had been a foolish one as soon as it fell out of his mouth. He couldn't even pretend that he thought everyone else knew that Swan was hoping to take Henry back to New York, since she had explicitly confided in him that he was the only one who knew. And, just as she'd predicted, everyone in the diner was suddenly ganging up on her, and she'd fled.

He hoped Henry was right, and that the storybook would provide Swan with the motivation to stay. He wasn't sure how it would.

He found her beside the pond in the park, looking like the lost little girl he knew she'd been for so many years.

"I can't believe you did that," she said by way of greeting as he sat beside her.

"I'm a bloody fool," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Emma. I wasn't thinking."

"No, you weren't."

"Will you please come back?"

"Everyone's already made up their minds. What's the point of talking about it?"

He curled his fist reflexively and ran his thumb over his rings. "Are you saying your mind is made up as well?"

"I don't belong here. Henry doesn't either."

"He disagrees." He pulled the book from his satchel and handed it to her. He half-expected her to throw it back at him, and was relieved that she took it from him, holding it almost reverently. "You can live a normal life here," he said gently. "With your son, and your parents."

"No, I can't," she said angrily, pulling open the book. He wasn't that familiar with the tome, but the enormous full-page illustration clearly depicted Snow White being woken from the sleeping curse by the Prince. "See this? This is a fucking _fairy tale._ The whole town, it's just a bunch of fairytale characters living fairytale lives, just with cell phones and the internet and PTA meetings. This isn't _normal."_

There it was: normal. "Maybe it's okay not to be normal," he said. "You aren't normal. You're the Savior."

"Not anymore. No magic. Remember?"

But that had been a _negative_ thing. She'd spoken to him about it that night, after the dust had settled, about how empty she felt with it gone. If that was the price of being normal, it didn't seem worth it.

"What if you can't take Henry with you?" he asked. "Do you think Regina will let you leave with him?"

"If I can convince her it's what's best for him. He was _so_ happy." A tear landed on the page and she quickly closed the book. She continued to stare at the cover. "And if not, then whatever. I'm his mother. I've got copies of Henry Swan's birth certificate at home in New York. There's no way she'll be able to prove I'm not his sole guardian, not with all the documentation I have saying otherwise. And who knows if she can even chase after us. Not everyone's able to leave Storybrooke."

"Which means your parents will be left behind, too."

"I have to give Henry his best chance. They'll understand."

He couldn't keep it in any longer. "And us?"

She hadn't acknowledged his inadvertent declaration of his feelings. She hadn't rejected him, certainly, but without reciprocation, and with all the talk of New York, it had been weighing on his mind. Was this just a diversion while she settled things in Storybrooke?

It must be. After all, he was far from normal. Even if he could be convinced to abandon his attire and wear something typical of the Land Without Magic, he still had his hook. He would never meet that standard. Ever. No matter how much he loved her, it just wasn't possible.

"Will you come with me?" Her voice was so small and fragile, she sounded as though she might break.

"What?"

"To New York. Will you come and … stay with me? Be with me? With us?"

She finally looked up at him, and he could see just how much she was struggling to maintain her composure.

Before he could answer, to tell her that he would follow her to the ends of the earth, to ask whether or not she really wanted a pirate tagging along to New York City, to ask her to ask it again, just so he could be sure he heard right, her expression turned incredulous. She was staring at something in the distance behind him.

* * *

Of all the ridiculous, crazy shit Emma could have ever imagined happening with regards to time travel, this wasn't even on the list. "Star in my own version of _Back to the Future_ " _was_ on the list, which was good, because it had happened.

But distracting a past version of her boyfriend by getting him drunk and flirting with him, while he snuck onboard his own ship to set in motion a complicated plan to get her parents to meet, was absurd to the highest degree imaginable.

Although, aside from the fact that failure meant that she would disappear from existence and alter the course of history in unprecedented ways, it was really kind of fun. Hook was open and flirty and salacious and she kind of wanted to just drag him into alleyway and fuck him until he couldn't walk ever again.

Killian might have a problem with that, though. And she hadn't thought to carry condoms on her, which made sense, given that, once again, this scenario hadn't even been on the list.

Which, actually, was a bit of a problem, because said pirate was dragging her (willingly) back to the _Jolly Roger_ for what he seemed convinced was going to be a night of wild, dirty sex.

She really didn't have time for it, even if she had protection and Killian's blessing. Once Snow White left to get the ring and Killian got off the ship, she needed to get to the forest and meet up with him, as planned.

But she couldn't figure out how to ditch Hook, and she was now alone with him in his cabin. "Not having second thoughts, are you, love?" The question wasn't lecherous; he was clearly making sure he had her consent. It wasn't just her imagination or the fact that she knew he was capable of being a good man: Killian had made it clear that while he had been a dangerous man in the past, he never took any women who were unwilling. And he wouldn't have let her spend the night flirting with said past self if he had been worried about her safety.

So this was a good opportunity for her to skeddadle: she could just say that yeah, she was having second thoughts, sorry, see ya later, dude.

"Uh, I just …" Okay, but she had to actually _say_ she was having second thoughts. How? "Well, you know girls who get knocked up can get in trouble."

"As luck would have it," he said, his voice low and predatory as he stepped even closer, "I know just how to sate a woman's appetite without running the risk of leaving her in such a spot."

"O-Oh," she stammered. She felt herself getting wet; she knew _just_ how good he was with his hand and his mouth. "But what about you?"

"Who says this wouldn't be for me?" he asked. And then he was kissing her, and damn, it was just like their first kiss was, except sloppier and drenched in alcohol. How could she resist this, knowing what else he could do with those lips and that tongue?

Within moments, he had her on the bed, her heavy skirts pushed all the way up. "I must say, love, your undergarments are quite unusual." Shit; she didn't know what women in the Enchanted Forest wore instead of panties, but clearly, he'd never seen Victoria's Secret bikini-style bottoms before. "Perhaps you can assist me?"

Oh. He just wanted to know how to get them off. "Here, just—" She reached down and started pushing them down; he got the message and pulled them off the rest of the way, over her boots.

"Now, that's _much_ better." Before she could comment, or even _think_ to comment, his mouth was on her.

Killian had had a couple of weeks to learn how to make her see God, but when they'd first started sleeping together, this was almost exactly what it had felt like. The same licks and nips, the same half-sure caresses, the same sampling of everything he could do. It was hard for her not to go back to that moment, to the first time he'd gone down on her back in New York, and think about just how far she'd come in terms of the intensity of her feelings for him.

This was still _really_ good, of course (just as it had been the first time), and she didn't try to hide her moans. She could feel him responding in kind, the vibrations from his voice transferring pleasantly to her clit and lips.

And then she heard another moan.

It was so, so very quiet, but she'd heard it, and she knew it wasn't Hook. And it hadn't been her. Where had it come from? She let out another whimper, hoping that whoever it was would think she hadn't noticed, and maybe they would make a little more noise.

They did. It came from across the room. She turned her head to find that a cabinet door was open _just_ slightly.

She could see Killian's eyes glinting out at her.

So he _hadn't_ been able to get off the ship in time … and now he was watching his past self lick her. And from the sounds she'd heard, he was _enjoying_ it.

She felt a rush of power. Oh, he was enjoying this, was he? She turned her attention back to Hook's ministrations, which, while pleasant, had commanded less attention since she realized she was being watched. "More," she panted, and true to form, he did just that, penetrating her with his tongue and thumbing her clit enthusiastically. She let herself be vocal, moaning his name (his moniker; she couldn't let him know she knew his _real_ name) and looking towards the cabinet as she did so. She could see the tiniest bit of movement; the realization that Killian was touching himself drove her over the edge.

Hook helped her come down from the high, stroking her languidly as her hips continued to jerk. "Satisfied, darling?"

"Uh-huh," she said eloquently, still trying to catch her breath. "Give me a sec." She was going to have to do something for him, but judging by Killian's activities in the closet, it was _probably_ okay.

"No rush, love. We've the whole night." He shifted so that he was lying next to her, pressed up against the wall. His mouth glistened and his eyelids were droopy.

"Yeah. Why don't you lie back? Relax a bit?"

He did as she asked, and within moments, she could tell he'd fallen asleep. It was a little funny—he was still fully dressed _and_ his erection was still straining his pants. But otherwise, he looked pretty peaceful.

She quietly scrambled to her feet and grabbed her panties from where he'd dropped them on the floor. She knew she was going to be uncomfortable—they were still damp from how horny she'd been _before_ the oral sex, and they were about to get wetter—but she was _not_ going to be caught without her underwear on. No way.

"Come on," she hissed, and sure enough, Killian stumbled out of the closet, fumbling gracelessly with the laces on his leather pants. She quickly sped over to assist him before dragging him up the ladder and off the ship.

"What the _hell?"_ she asked as soon as they were far enough away from the _Jolly_.

"Oh, we're going to admonish _me_ for _my_ behavior?" He was laughing.

"You were supposed to be off the ship!"

"And you weren't supposed to board," he reminded her. "There's no harm done," he continued, his tone becoming almost comforting. "I _do_ vaguely remember tonight, but all I remember is getting quite smashed at the tavern and waking up the next morning, fully clothed and terribly hung over."

"So you don't remember hearing someone hiding in your cabin?"

"It's not as though I finished," he pointed out. "And I don't know if you were paying attention, love, but I think I was a little preoccupied with the beautiful woman whose sex was in my face."

She blushed. "Was that really that hot?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn as red as she was sure she was. "Seeing you in the throes of pleasure is one of the most erotic sights I've ever even imagined," he said quietly, but his voice was dripping with lust. "Actually having the opportunity to watch myself bring you to climax … " He couldn't even finish his sentence.

As soon as they were safe in the darkness of the forest, she allowed him to give a repeat performance before returning the favor.

* * *

Killian finished checking all of the cabinets and doors he could access, but as he expected, if there was a way out of the Dark One's vault, it wasn't accessible to people imprisoned in it. "Any luck, love?"

He turned to find Swan angrily shaking the magic wand. "No."

He strode back over to her. "You can do this love. You just need to focus."

"Stop saying that!" She'd only gotten more and more frustrated since they'd first gotten trapped in here several long minutes ago. "You think I'm not trying?"

He sighed. "Sorry."

"I'm not faking," she said, as though he'd accused her of that. He _didn't_ think she was pretending to have no magic. Although …

"When Zelena was defeated, your magic should have returned," he reminded her gently. As expected, she stiffened angrily, so he continued quickly, before she could interrupt. "It's just a matter of figuring out what's keeping it hidden."

"And what do you think that is?"

"No magic makes it a lot easier to go back to New York."

She rolled her eyes. "Are we still on this? You could come with me."

"I'm not the only one who cares about you, Swan," he reminded her. "Even if I come with you, have you thought about who you're leaving behind?" She didn't answer; she just stared at the floor. He took a step closer. "And besides, are you sure you want my company?"

Her head snapped up. "Of _course_ I'm sure. How can you ask that?"

"I'm not _normal_." He tried not to sound resentful. "I'm not from your world. I don't know how the internetting works. I'm unable to drive a car." He raised his left arm. "I have a hook for a hand. I hardly fit in."

"I …" He gave her a few moments to finish whatever thought she'd begun to articulate, but she eventually closed her mouth.

"You know how I feel about you, Swan." He took yet another step closer. "And you know I would follow you anywhere, as evidenced by our current predicament. But for all the things you profess to dislike about Storybrooke—like it or not, I embody those traits."

He sighed. "If you want to go to New York, I will be by your side, for as long as you'll have me. But whatever it is that's making Storybrooke unbearable for you … it's hard to believe you won't soon come to realize you wish you'd left me behind."

Her arms were around him so suddenly that he almost fell backwards. "Never," she said, her voice muffled by his coat. "I know I keep talking about what's normal, and I just … I know I'm not normal either. Magic or not, this is who I am." She pulled back, tears staining her cheeks, and gestured at all the crocodile's artifacts strewn about the room. "I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, and I'm a goddamn Disney Princess who went to a ball and broke out of the dungeons and seduced a pirate." He chuckled.

"And this is who I'm going to be no matter where I live," she continued. "And no matter what, Henry's always going to be a prince and the grandson of Rumplestiltskin. No one's going to understand that better than our own family. We might as well live with people who know exactly who we are and love us for it."

His heart beat erratically in his chest. "So … you're not leaving?"

She shook her head. "Storybrooke is my home."

The wand began to glow.

* * *

Emma found Killian outside, drinking from his flask. She knew what was bothering him and dropped into the chair next to his.

"I know it's weird," she said.

"Perhaps they kept the name a secret from you, knowing how you'd feel about it."

"Or Henry," she added. "But yeah."

"Are you all right?"

"I am." And she was. She was _home_ , her son and her parents were relieved to see her safe, and the whole town was celebrating for what felt like the first time in forever. Gold and Belle had even decided that it was the perfect evening for their wedding; she'd caught them on their way out the door. "Are you?" she asked.

He nodded. It looked … not so genuine. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He sighed and looked at her sadly. "Nothing. Celebrations always make me a little melancholy. It's easy to remember those we've lost." Another reason to knock her parents' heads together for naming her brother Neal.

"Well, we'll just have to celebrate extra hard," she commented, snagging the flask from him and taking a drink. "And you should be proud of yourself. Without you, none of this would have happened."

"What do you mean?"

Did he really not know? "If you hadn't come to New York in the first place, I never would have left and come here. Zelena would have succeeded." And, she added mentally, her whole family would have vanished from existence.

"Of course I came for you," he said, blushing at the (for once) unintentional innuendo.

"Still, thank you." She rubbed his arm reassuringly and he smiled sadly at her. "Um, can I ask you something?" It had been bugging her for a while, and they _were_ on the subject. He nodded. "How _did_ you even find me?"

"I had plenty of gold on me, and I easily found a private investigator who assured me that he could do something called 'hacking' to—"

"No, no." Although _that_ was a story she wanted to hear the rest of at some point. "How did you even get to New York?"

"Oh." He swallowed hard. "Well, there was that note, you recall." She nodded. "So I ditched my crew and sailed the _Jolly_ as fast as I could to get out of the curse's range."

"That's pretty impressive," she admitted. She knew the _Jolly Roger_ was enchanted, but still.

"I _am_ one hell of a captain," he said, but she could tell the bravado was a front. She nodded for him to continue, and he did, taking a deep breath beforehand. "As soon as the curse had been cast, the walls between worlds were down again. I managed to procure a magic bean, and the rest is what you already know."

"You found a magic bean?" He nodded. "How? Those cost an arm and a leg." She regretted her choice of words instantly; Killian had told her the exact details of how he'd lost his hand. But he didn't seem to care at how inappropriate her comment was.

"Luckily, I had something of value to trade."

"And what was that?" The sextant? No—he'd shown that to Henry last week. Clearly not all his gold, since she knew he still had plenty. Something else magical?

It hit her. What was the most valuable thing Killian possessed? And what had been missing since the moment they'd reunited in New York? "The _Jolly Roger,"_ she whispered. He nodded.

He'd traded away his ship—his _home_ , where Milah had died, and where his brother had died—for a magic bean. Just so he could see her again and save her and her family.

She closed the distance between them and kissed him, pulling gently at the lapels of his coat.

He pulled back almost instantly. "Swan, we're in public," he reminded her. Even though no one else was outside, he was right: anyone could walk up to Granny's or exit the diner at any moment and catch them in the act.

But she didn't care. "I love you," she said softly, and she felt his body go entirely still. It was a relief to finally be able to tell him. "I don't care who sees us."

"Are you ready for everyone to know?"

Not really; she could imagine having to explaining the situation to her parents, and Henry was a wild card. But even so. "I don't want to have to keep hiding how I feel," she admitted. "I know how hard this has been on you, and I don't want to keep putting you through it."

"Well, in that case," he began, but the rest of his sentence involved coaxing her mouth open with his lips and tongue and pulling her onto his lap. Oh, he was _definitely_ getting lucky tonight.

"All right, all right."

"Dad!"

* * *

David made his way back to where Mary Margaret was sitting, rocking Neal back and forth and having an animated conversation with Ruby. She looked up as he approached. "David, what's wrong?"

She knew him all too well; he sat down next to her with a sigh. "I just saw our daughter kissing Hook."

"Just kissing?" Ruby asked. "I'm surprised they still had their clothes on."

"Excuse me?"

She chuckled. "I mean, come on, they've been going at it like teenagers since they got here. Even without my wolf senses, the condoms in the trash can were evidence enough."

" _What?"_ They were doing _what?!_

"Ew, Ruby!" Henry suddenly appeared; he'd been sitting in the adjoining booth.

"Ruby!" Mary Margaret admonished. Great—not only was Hook _fucking_ his daughter, but now his grandson knew!

"I mean, I knew, but I didn't have proof," Henry admitted. "And I didn't _want_ proof!"

"You knew?" Ruby asked.

Henry shrugged. "I knew Mom was sneaking out of the room every night, so one night I pretended to fall asleep and then followed her."

"What's going on?" Regina and Robin wandered over.

"David just saw Hook and Emma making out," Mary Margaret said. She was _much_ too calm!

"So?" Robin asked.

"So?" David replied angrily.

Robin was genuinely confused. "Did you not know they were together?"

"Neverland's worst kept secret," Regina added.

"No, I know they kissed in Neverland," David said. "They told us in the Echo Caves. But that was just—Emma said it didn't mean anything."

"Oh, they were kissing _plenty_ after that." Now Tinker Bell had approached the booth. "Did you really not know? They were terrible about hiding it."

"Enough!" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Neal squirmed and let out a little whine, and everyone quieted and dispersed, leaving him alone with Mary Margaret and the baby.

"Calm down," she said. "Emma's not a child. And Hook's your friend. You were just telling him that he helped you continue to believe in love when he was in disguise as Prince Charles."

"I mean … I guess." But it was _Hook._ He was a pirate. "God, has this really been going on since Neverland?"

"No," his wife said reassuringly. And for a moment, he was reassured. Except …

"Wait. How long have _you_ known?"

"Do you remember when Hook shot Belle and we had to find a place to hide him in the hospital?"

"Yes." He had a feeling he wasn't about to like where this was going.

"Well, the room he was in had pretty large windows."

By the time David burst out of the diner, ready to give the pirate the most threatening speech he could come up with, Hook and Emma were gone.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed the story! I'd love to know what you think.**

 **I am no longer posting stories to FFnet. For new stories, check out my page on AO3 (same username, phiralovesloki; there's a link in my profile as well).**


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